The Rescue
by elbcw
Summary: When Treville is captured by mercenaries, the Musketeers are given the task of rescuing their Captain. Failure is not an option.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: I will add a chapter a day, real life permitting. They are all in this and all get hurt to some degree.**

Chapter One

Athos was not often confused but being summoned to see the King without his Captain was unheard of. The message had arrived at the garrison, by a senior member of the Royal family's staff. The man had insisted on handing the note to Athos personally and said that it was to be read in private. The messenger waited for Athos to read the note before indicating that they were to return to the Palace immediately. Athos had questioned the messenger as to why Treville had not been the one summoned, but the messenger did not answer. Athos suspected the man did not know the answer.

He had saddled his horse as the man waited, already settled on his own mount. He had been told the meeting could not be discussed with anyone else. He had not even been allowed to leave a message for his Captain in case he returned before the meeting had ended. Athos was perplexed by the entire event.

After checking his tack and weapons, Athos mounted up and nodded to the messenger that he was ready. The messenger, a young man who seemed to take his job very seriously urged his horse forward. They trotted out of the garrison side by side. The messenger did not speak during the journey, Athos did not try to start a conversation, he spent the time wracking his brain for some idea as to what the King wanted from him and not Treville.

As they reached the Palace gates the messenger turned his horse towards the man entrance, Athos followed. It was not often that he had entered the Palace through the main door, the Musketeers usually used one of the side entrances when they were on duty, only using the main door if they were accompanying a member of the Royal family. The messenger dismounted and handed his reins to a waiting stableman who also took Athos' horse. The man did not move off with the horse, he waited where he was. Athos realised the man had been briefed that he should stay.

The messenger walked purposefully into the Palace. Athos nodded a greeting to the two men at the door whose expressions, he suspected, mirrored his own. They both looked confused to see him being led into the Palace.

Athos and the messenger walked along one of the wide corridors towards the King's throne room, stopping one room short of the ostentatious room itself. Athos knew the room they had stopped by was a smaller room, where the King would make final preparations or take some respite during a long session in the throne rooms itself. Athos had not been in the room before. The messenger knocked on the door twice before opening it. He held the door for Athos who walked past the messenger, finding himself alone in the room with the King and one servant who was busy adjusting the monarch's cuffs.

The King pulled his arm away from the servant and indicated with a flick of his hand that the servant was to leave. The older man bowed deeply and retreated from the room, Athos watched as the messenger made eye contact with the King briefly, nodding at some unspoken order. The man gave a polite nod and stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Athos turned back to the King who was pulling at the cuff on his sleeve that the servant had been adjusting. He tutted and shook his head before dropping his hand to his side and looking up at Athos.

The two men regarded each other for a few seconds. Athos wondered if he was meant to speak first, but as he had no idea why he had been called he remained silent.

'What I am about to talk to you about is for your ears only. You will be allowed to speak of it only to men you trust implicitly. Am I understood?'

The King tilted his head slightly as he waited for Athos to reply.

'Yes, your majesty.'

The King paused for a moment before nodded to himself.

'Good. I know I can trust you Athos you have been loyal to me. As you are aware, I am almost constantly making negotiations with our neighbours. These negotiations can be very delicate. Captain Treville had been assisting me with some for the last few weeks. He has built up a rapport with a man who I am sure will be of great use to France in the coming years.'

The King wandered towards the only window in the room and stood with his back to Athos gazing out at the gardens around the Palace.

'Treville has been taking messages and helping me to persuade the man to come around to my way of thinking. We are very close to closing a deal with him…'

Athos took a couple of steps forward, putting himself at the side of the King, but remaining a respectable distance away.

'But…?'

'But, there has been a...development,' said the King.

He reached into the pocket of his intricately embroidered doublet, pulling out a tatty piece of paper that had been folded a couple of times. The paper looked dusty. The King handed it to Athos who carefully opened it out and read the scrawled note written on it.

'As you can see, the men who have captured your Captain are merely mercenaries who can be bought for the highest price.'

Athos read the note carefully. Whoever had written it was educated, even if their handwriting was untidy. The man, who had only signed himself as 'X', had written to the monarch to inform him that Treville had been taken captive by the group and he would be handed over to their paymasters in two days' time, unless the King doubled what they were being paid. The mercenaries were not bothered where their money came from and had no interest in the delicate negotiations Treville had been involved with.

'It seems,' said the King, 'that a third party had discovered my tireless efforts to better France's position and has ordered Treville, who is party to some highly sensitive information, to be captured and delivered to them for questioning.'

'Who bought the note, have they been questioned?' asked Athos.

The King shook his head, 'the note was passed to one of the gardeners, the fool could not give a description of the person, although they were probably paid to deliver the note anyway.'

'Where was the Captain when he was taken?'

Again, the King shook his head, 'I can only give you a rough idea of the location. You will have to search for him.'

'I will muster the garrison-'

'No!' the King held out a hand to stop Athos who had turned towards the door.

Athos could not help a look of confusion.

'The information he has is vital and very sensitive. It cannot be allowed to get into enemy hands,' the King said as he took a step closer to Athos and lowered his voice to a whisper. 'You are to pick a select few men to go with you on the search, the fewer the better.'

Athos nodded, 'I understand, your Majesty.'

'I want to make one thing very clear to you. If you cannot liberate Treville before he is handed to the mercenaries, you must ensure that he does not talk to them.'

'The ransom is not going to be paid?' asked Athos.

'I will not tolerate such demands, no, Athos, the ransom is not going to be paid. Treville has to be rescued, or, regrettably, he must die.'

Athos had already understood the implication the King had made, but to hear him say it plainly was still a shock.

'You and your men must succeed. On pain of death, you must succeed. If Treville is not either recovered or rendered unable to talk, you will all become wanted men, condemned men.'

The King, his face serious, meant every word he had spoken. Athos wondered what was so important that the King was prepared to order him to potentially kill his Captain and take men on a mission where success was the only outcome. Failure did not bear thinking about.

After a few seconds, the King reached out his hand to take the note back from Athos. After taking the note and replacing it in his doublet the King turned back to the window.

'You have two days, Athos. This is vital for the future of France. Do not fail me.'

Athos did not think he was required to reply and considering himself dismissed, he bowed and walked to the door, as he reached for the handle, he heard the King speak again, quietly.

'Good luck.'

MMMM

_Earlier…_

The horse was cantering with ease, the sun was uninhibited by clouds, and the wind had died down. Treville could not hide a smile as he enjoyed the relative freedom the ride back to Paris was providing. The recent wet weather had left the ground muddy, with puddles in places but the road he was on was well maintained. The sure-footed horse had no issue as they made their way towards the city.

The meeting had gone well, Treville knew the King would be pleased with the progress, taking the credit for himself. Treville did not mind, the King would enjoy his glory as he quietly celebrated in the background. Such was the life of a soldier, but if it was for the betterment of France it was worth it.

The King's strict instructions of secrecy were the only part of the covert mission that annoyed him. Treville knew he could trust his Musketeers. His men would have been useful allies for his work. He had noticed his best men, his inseparables, watching his movements. They knew something was going on, knew he was doing something other than his usual work. But the King had been adamant that only he was to deal with the contact and handle the delicate negotiations.

Not wanting to tire the horse, Treville slowed him to a trot. The horse snorted a couple of times but eased down as instructed by his master. The road was quiet, he knew it would get busier in the next couple of miles and then he would be in the thick of the bustle of the city. The last few minutes of open land was welcome.

The area was sparsely covered in trees and thick bushes with a few areas of more densely packed trees. Treville watched a pair of birds of prey circling overhead as the trees closed in around him.

A snap drew his attention, followed by his horse faltering slightly. The well-trained horse's reaction surprised Treville. Several shouts and yells followed by the feeling of being hit by several things, stones and rocks he guessed, had Treville trying to urge the horse forwards quickly. He was too slow. His enjoyment of the journey had distracted him. He inwardly cursed as he pulled his gun.

But there were too many of them. He could not count the number of men who swarmed from the thicket of trees. He was grabbed by several men. His horse whinnied and reared, but the men already had a firm hold of him, knocking his gun from his hand. Treville did not see where the gun went as he was pulled bodily from his horse his foot being wrenched from the stirrup.

The last thing he saw was the ground as he was pushed down. A blow to his head the last thing he felt.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Porthos watched the mixture of shock and mild amusement from his friends as Athos related his meeting with the King. They had curiously followed him to Treville's office when he returned from the clandestine meeting. Athos had looked a little shocked as he returned to the garrison. They had heard he had gone off with a member of the Palace staff an hour before and were waiting impatiently for his return. Athos had dismounted and shook his head before any of them could speak. He indicated for them to follow him.

After d'Artagnan had shut the door and joined them in the office Athos took a moment to gather his thoughts before telling them about the meeting. The King's idea of a private and secret meeting amused Porthos greatly. Several courtiers had no doubt seen Athos visiting the King and a liveried Royal servant had been sent to get him. But the contents of the meeting shocked them all. They had known Treville was doing something out of the ordinary but knew better than to question him. Now that they knew he had been working for the King on affairs of state their Captain's actions made sense.

Porthos watched Aramis shaking his head with a wry smile as Athos outlined their options if they were to fail to rescue Treville.

'If we don't rescue him, we are all condemned to die?' said Aramis. 'Did he have the death warrants there? Ready to sign. Was the hangman in the next room?'

Athos sighed, 'he was adamant that we must succeed in the rescue or Treville must die. They were the only options. If we fail, we are condemned.'

'If we fail, we will probably be dead anyway,' pointed out Aramis.

Athos nodded before speaking again, 'I cannot order you to take part in this mission. I can only ask you-'

'We'll do it,' said Porthos decisively, he glanced at d'Artagnan who was nodding.

'I agree,' said Aramis, 'you know we won't refuse. This is the Captain we're talking about. Regardless of the intelligence he has, we would still be rescuing him.'

'Thank you,' said Athos. 'We will leave as soon as we have gathered provisions for a few days away. I think we should split up, Aramis and I will take the road to the East where it forks, Porthos, d'Artagnan, you two take the Western fork.'

Athos looked at them both as he spoke. Porthos nodded.

'There's a tavern...the Hound...or the Black Dog...or something on the western road,' said d'Artagnan, 'we can rendezvous there.'

'I know the one you mean,' said Aramis, 'we'll reconnoitre until dusk then head for the tavern to pool our information.'

'This must be a team effort,' said Athos, 'I do not want one or two of us making an attempt to recover the Captain. We work together on this. His life...and ours, depends on it.'

'Agreed,' said Porthos with a glance at d'Artagnan and Aramis.

'He's the one who always rushes into the things, I don't,' said Aramis with mock annoyance.

Porthos smirked as he saw d'Artagnan's expression turn to one of genuine annoyance.

'This is the Captain we're talking about,' said d'Artagnan. 'None of us should take any chances.'

Porthos nodded, sobering slightly.

Athos waited until they were all focused on him again.

'If anyone asks, we have been dispatched to escort a prisoner to the border. We will have to work undercover,' Athos said. 'Once we are away from the garrison, we will have to remove anything that identifies us as Musketeers.'

Porthos disliked working out of uniform. His Musketeer uniform afforded him respect, but without it, he was nothing more than a common man. He preferred the respect. But if working undercover meant a better chance of rescuing his Captain, Porthos was willing to make the sacrifice.

MMMM

'You don't have to look quite so concerned, you'll draw attention to us,' said Porthos.

D'Artagnan realised he had been deeply lost in thought, the worry about what could have happened to Treville playing on his mind.

'Sorry,' he said, looking across to his friend, 'he's already been held for several hours though…'

Porthos nodded, 'yeah, we should be concerned, but we don't need to advertise that fact.'

They had been riding for about half an hour since they split up from Athos and Aramis. The road they had taken was open, with only the odd tree a few meters from the edge of the rough path. A hedge running along one side of the road was keeping their attention most of the time. Any break or disturbance was inspected carefully. But they had, so far, found nothing to indicate that anything untoward had occurred.

D'Artagnan had paused a couple of times to talk to the people they met. None of them had seen anything that was of interest.

'This is hopeless,' d'Artagnan sighed as he mounted his horse for the third time after a short but non-productive conversation with a confused old woman who was wandering away glancing back at the two men warily every so often.

The Musketeer settled himself on the horse and stared ahead for a few seconds before looking across at Porthos who looked equally frustrated.

'We'll keep lookin' for another couple of hours, then head back and find the others,' said Porthos decisively.

D'Artagnan had been about to make the same suggestion. The shadows were lengthening as the sun started to lower. They had no clue where to start their search for the Captain other than the fact that he would have travelled along one of the roads they were currently travelling on.

The King had been suitably vague with Athos, probably because he did not know himself where his Captain was going to conduct the negotiations. Despite the odd bit of light-hearted banter between them earlier they all knew that it was going to be a difficult task to find Treville. The threat the King had made was empty to them as they would do whatever it took to recover the missing man.

They trotted on in silence for a few minutes keeping vigilant as they went. D'Artagnan spotted a couple of boys walking ahead of them. He wondered if it was even worth asking them if they had seen anything? But he slowed his horse, nonetheless.

The boys wore relatively good clothes but d'Artagnan could see the dust and mud of a days work in the fields on their breeches. Neither boy wore a doublet, but the older boy was wearing a faded green jerkin which looked a little big for him.

The boys looked up at them as d'Artagnan leaned forward slightly. The older boy, d'Artagnan guessed he was about twelve, took a slight step to the side, in front of the younger boy. The small boy, his eyes wide, stared at d'Artagnan for a few seconds before his eyes darted towards Porthos. Realising they were probably a bit imposing whilst sat on their horses d'Artagnan dismounted. He was aware of Porthos reaching across and taking his horses reins before walking both beasts a few yards away so as not to intimidate the boys.

'Hello,' said d'Artagnan, 'we're looking for a friend of ours.'

The older boy continued to stare at him. D'Artagnan guessed they were brothers; they both had the same blond curly hair and bright blue eyes. The younger boy was still peering around his brother, a smudge of dirt on his nose.

'Our friend, he's older than us, with short dark hair and a beard. Have you seen him?'

D'Artagnan realised he had just described most of the men he knew. They had not seen their Captain leave that morning so had no idea what he was wearing, although d'Artagnan guessed he was not in uniform.

The boys both looked beyond d'Artagnan as Porthos approached them. D'Artagnan was a little worried they would run away but their eyes lit up as Porthos produced two coins from his pocket and held them out. Porthos crouched down in front of the boys, keeping hold of the coins as he spoke to them.

'Our friend is in trouble and we want to help him,' said Porthos, keeping his voice soft.

D'Artagnan was impressed. The older boy still looked a little wary, but the younger boy had grown in confidence and stepped out from behind his brother.

'We seen a man-'

The boy stopped talking when his brother yanked his arm causing him to gasp.

'It's alright,' said Porthos, 'you're not in trouble.'

'We ain't seen nothin' he's makin' it up,' said the older boy.

'I'm not,' the younger brother stood his ground as he rubbed at his arm. 'We seen a man who was with lots and lots and lots of other men.'

Porthos glanced up at d'Artagnan. Perhaps they were onto something with the boys?

'They was going along the road. They had lots of 'orses. They was goin' quick.'

The boy was enjoying the attention he was getting. The older brother seemed to realise and decided that he should take over the conversation.

'It was back there,' he said pointing along the road they had walked along. 'We had to get out of the way.'

'What was happening?' asked d'Artagnan.

The younger boy thought for a moment.

'They was riding along quick.'

D'Artagnan sighed and asked, 'were they chasing our friend?'

The boys looked confused, 'no. He was in a carriage,' said the older brother.

'And he 'ad a silly hat on-'

Porthos held the coins out to the two boys who took them eagerly.

'What were the men with him wearing?' asked Porthos, a slight hint of amusement in his voice, despite the seriousness of the situation.

The younger boy was first to reply as the older boy stared at the coin he now held.

'Red coats and cloaks. I fink they was soldiers.'

The boys looked quite pleased with themselves and happy to be holding, what they probably thought, were hard-earned coins. Porthos reached up and ruffled the hair on the younger boy before standing.

'Thank you for your help,' he said with a smile.

The boys positively beamed as they turned and continued along the road, a skip in their step.

'I doubt the Cardinal will be in need of rescue,' said Porthos as they watched the boys go.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'I was hopeful for a moment there.'

They walked back to their horses to continue the search. D'Artagnan wondered if Athos and Aramis were having any more luck.

MMMM

Aramis sighed; they had been riding the horses at a walk along the road carefully looking into the trees on either side for some time. They had not seen anyone else so could not ask if anything had been seen. Some birds of prey had been circling overhead, no doubt watching some poor unsuspecting creature and waiting for the moment to be right to dive down and capture it. Aramis wondered how the Captain had come to be taken by the mercenaries. It would have been unusual for him to be caught off guard, but even the best of them had the odd moment of distraction.

The trees closed in around them, but the wood was not thick, they could still see daylight through the assortment of trees and brambles. The recent rains had given the leaves a sheen of freshness. If they were not on a serious mission Aramis would have enjoyed the sight of the wildflowers and the small birds flitting from tree to tree.

'All we can do is keep looking,' said Athos when Aramis sighed again.

His friend had not even turned to look at him, Aramis knew the feeling of uselessness was not just his own. They had no idea whereabouts Treville was captured or where the mercenaries had taken him. They had not been able to question any of the locals as they were all conspicuous by their absence.

'There aren't many dwellings around here, we're going to struggle to find anyone who might have witnessed the Captain being taken.'

Athos nodded but continued to look ahead.

'He didn't talk to you at all about all this?' asked Aramis after a few seconds of silence. 'You'd have thought he would have confided in you at least.'

'Why?'

'He wants you to be the next Captain, everyone knows that.'

'He may want it, but I do not,' replied Athos as he finally glanced across at Aramis.

'You'd make a good Captain…'

Athos huffed but did not reply for a few seconds.

'D'Artagnan will make a good Captain in a few years' time,' he finally said.

Aramis nodded his agreement, d'Artagnan had all the qualities of a future leader. He was still a little impetuous but was maturing all the time. Aramis knew he would have no issue taking orders from the younger man.

'What would you do?' asked Athos. 'If you could not be a soldier anymore?'

Aramis, who had been looking intently into the trees to his left turned back to Athos who was watching him. His friend wanted an answer.

'I'm not sure. I can't actually imagine being anything other than a Musketeer now. I fully expect to die in battle one day. I've made peace with that.'

Athos nodded before going back to his own observations of the area.

'Porthos will never stop soldiering...can you see him doing anything else?' said Aramis with a slight smile. 'A shopkeeper?'

Athos actually laughed at the suggestion.

They went back to their careful search of the area on either side of them. Both men lost in thought of the future, hoping that the future still included their leader.

When Aramis' mare whinnied and became restless both men were instantly on high alert. Athos' horse reacted a few seconds later, at the same time as the cause of the distraction appeared in front of them. A horse galloping towards them.

Treville's horse.

But there was no sign of Treville.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

'If there were mercenaries active on this road, they would have made themselves scares when the Red Guard and the Cardinal came through,' said Porthos as they mounted up and urged the horses on.

The two boys had disappeared around a bend in the road behind them. Porthos wondered what they would spend their coins on, it had not been much but probably felt like a small fortune to the youngsters.

'I think we should go as far as the village ahead, it's only a few houses,' said d'Artagnan. 'We'll ask there if anything's been seen. Then head for the tavern.'

Porthos nodded, 'it's a thankless task this. We've no idea who has him, where he was when he was taken, or where he was taken to. I think the only thing we can be grateful for is that the mercenaries are likely to be keeping him alive to hand him over to their employer.'

'Why wouldn't the King pay for his release? If the information was that vital, you'd have thought he'd want Treville released,' said d'Artagnan.

Porthos shrugged his shoulders, 'who knows. I suppose the King doesn't want to be seen to give in to demands…'

As the first of the houses came into view, they slowed the horses stopping at the edge of the village.

'We ain't got nothink for yer,' said a middle-aged woman with a scowl.

Porthos looked down at the woman who was holding a bowl of seeds, chickens surrounded her, pecking at the ground. The woman, wearing a dress that had seen better days and a dirty apron continued to glare at the two men.

'There ain't no jobs and there ain't nowhere for yer to stay,' she continued.

'Madam,' said d'Artagnan as civilly as he could manage, 'we do not want anything from you except a moment of your time.'

The woman looked at them both for a few seconds, she scattered a few more seeds making the chickens cluck appreciatively.

'You sellin' somefink?'

'No, madam,' said Porthos with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. 'We only want to know if you've seen our friend who we think might be in some trouble-'

'Ain't been no one round 'ere lately that I ain't known.'

The woman spread some more seeds. She continued to look at them both.

'Could anyone else have seen anything?' asked d'Artagnan hopefully.

'No. No one's seen noffin'. No one's been ere.'

Porthos tipped his hat to the woman, 'thank you for your time,' he said with a smile.

They glanced at each other, Porthos had to hide a smile when d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. Without another word they turned their horses and retraced their steps. Porthos was sure the woman was watching them go, he could feel her eyes on them as they pushed the horses into a canter.

MMMM

Athos had to lean across further than he would have liked in order to grab at the reins of the galloping horse. But once under his control, it did not take him long to slow both his own and Treville's horse. Aramis was on the other side of the scared beast stopping him from turning away and pulling from Athos' grasp. It had taken them several minutes to get level with the horse which was clearly exhausted. The horse would probably have stopped on his own at any moment but could easily have wandered off and become lost in the thicker woods they had entered in their pursuit.

Both Musketeers were panting from the sudden exertion as they finally brought all three horses to a stop.

'Handy,' said Aramis nodding towards a gentle stream a few yards from where they had come to a halt.

The two men dismounted and led the horses to the stream. Whilst their own drank their fill Athos looked Treville's mount over. He checked the saddlebags and pulled the gun from its holster. The weapon was still primed for firing.

'Nothing is missing,' Athos said.

'Except the actual rider,' pointed out Aramis with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

'A graze on the neck,' Athos said as he continued to look the horse over.

Aramis stepped closer to inspect the slight injury. Athos stroked the horse's neck, avoiding the sore looking graze. The horse was still slightly jumpy but appeared to be calming down as it stood with its stablemates.

'Not the ball of a gun,' mused Aramis, with a professional eye, 'a stone maybe, a slingshot or catapult?'

'Silent then,' said Athos.

They continued to look the horse over, finding no further injury. Aramis pulled the saddle straight as they worked their way around the beast.

'I would guess…' Aramis said slowly, 'that our Captain was pulled from the saddle.'

Athos looked back along the road, 'we need to retrace the horses' flight.'

'That could take a while, he'd already been galloping for a while when he passed us.'

They were forced to wait for the horses to drink their fill and rest before mounting up and turning them back along the road. Not wanting to push Treville's horse into anything more than a trot for a few minutes they slowly returned along the road.

As they passed the area where they had first seen the horse galloping both men began to take a closer look at their surroundings, looking for anything that was out of place. Slowly retracing the horse's path, watching where the hooves left clear prints in the softer mud it was not difficult for the Musketeers to follow.

'More tracks,' said Aramis, pointing ahead a few yards.

Athos followed where his friend had indicated, dismounting before he reached the spot so as not to disturb the scene with his own horses' hooves. He left the two horses to wait on the edge of the clearing. Aramis remained mounted and made a slow circuit taking advantage of the height to look for anything out of place.

'There were several men,' said Athos as he looked at the scuffed-up mud. 'On foot as well as mounted…'

'They were lying in wait,' remarked Aramis as he dismounted and wandered towards his friend. 'There's disturbed undergrowth all the way around.'

Athos stood in the centre of the clearing and turned on the spot. A gleam of light caught his eye. He pointed towards it, Aramis, who was standing a couple of feet away turned and looked down, he bent to scoop up the item.

'Treville's main gauche,' concluded Aramis as he turned the parrying sword over in his hands. 'They must have not noticed it had fallen, it's valuable, they wouldn't have left it.'

'At least we know we are in the right place,' concluded Athos with a sigh.

Aramis was following the prints across the clearing, stopping at the edge.

'They left the clearing here, but the ground gets dryer, it's impossible to tell which way they went…'

Athos watched Aramis shake his head and look down for a few seconds with a sigh. The frustration his friend was clearly feeling was felt by them both.

'But we have more of an idea than we did have,' said Athos. 'We should get to the tavern; the others are probably already there.'

After a last look around the area, the two Musketeers mounted up and returned to the road. Athos hoped that finding the area where their Captain had been captured was just the beginning of their good luck and not the only luck they would have.

MMMM

D'Artagnan and Porthos had been at the tavern for roughly an hour when they overheard a conversation that made them both stop eating the stew they had been served. The tavern, the White Cat, was not particularly busy but no one was really paying either Musketeer any notice. Without their pauldrons and dressed in plain clothes the men looked like travellers passing through.

The main room of the tavern was big, with a large fireplace. A fire had been lit and two older men were huddled in front of it. Despite the weather not being too cold the men appeared to be enjoying the warmth. A big dog lay stretched out between them.

D'Artagnan was sat with his back to the main room whilst Porthos had taken the seat by the window. Porthos was glancing across the room to the two men who were speaking. D'Artagnan was watching his expression, guessing his own mirrored it. The men who were talking, speaking to the tavern keeper and a couple of other local men had clearly been poaching on nearby land. But none of the listeners seemed concerned with their nefarious activity. What interested all the occupants of the tavern, including d'Artagnan and Porthos was what the poachers had witnessed.

'I ain't been that scared before,' said the younger man who had a slight squeak to his voice. 'We were lucky we stopped where we did. Pa was pretty well hidden in the bushes where he was setting the trap, but if he'd been a couple of feet to the left they would've seen him.'

'And you was up the tree?' asked one of the locals.

'Yeah, I'd seen a nest up there, thought there might be some eggs. I was well hidden but could see all that went on.'

The older man continued, 'I'd just set the trap and was about to back out of the bramble, but got a bit caught up. I was picking the thorns off my sleeve when I heard the shouting. Six men came into the bit in front of the really old oak tree, the one with the low branches.'

'I know it,' said the tavern keeper, 'we used to climb it when we were boys.'

'Yeah, that's the one. Well, these men all stopped by the tree. Two of the men were tied up. One of them looked terrified he was gagged but was shouting through the gag. We couldn't make out what he was sayin' though. Well, we couldn't understand much of it, they was all speaking Spanish most of the time.'

The younger man had taken a quick swig of his drink before taking over the story, 'the other one that was tied up, was asked some questions by the man in charge. Ugly scar across the leader's face, honestly if you met him on a dark night you'd have thought you was looking at the devil. Anyway, he was asking the older man who was tied up about some meeting he'd had. He spoke to the man in French but to the others in Spanish. The leader was shouting at the man who refused to answer. Then the leader man just said it didn't matter 'cos he was valuable if he talked or not.'

'So what about the other man, the scared one?' asked the tavern keeper.

'They hanged him.'

D'Artagnan could hear sharp intakes of breath from the enrapt listeners.

The older man, who was enjoying the attention he was getting, continued, 'just before they hanged him, the leader told him he was being hanged for murder and gave him a chance to say his last words. When the gag was pulled out of his mouth the man just begged for his life, crying and screaming hysterically. But it didn't make any difference. They strung him up. Left him dangling there, twitching on the rope. I've seen hangings, but this was the worst. He gurgled; it took ages for him to stop making noises.'

The man paused for dramatic effect.

'I kept as still as I could. Didn't want them to know they'd been seen. After a few minutes, they grabbed the other man and walked off, pushing him in front. We waited for a few minutes then ran. Didn't look back. They left the body there.'

'Wonder who they are?' said the local man.

The other men grunted in agreement.

Porthos leaned forward slightly, 'that's got to be the Captain, their talking about.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'do you think they had him watch another man hanged to scare him into talking? Naive mercenaries if they think that would work.'

D'Artagnan risked a quick glance behind him at the poachers and the local patrons who were still discussing the event.

'At least we've got something to tell Athos and Aramis now,' stated Porthos. 'But hopefully, they'll have something to tell us as well.'

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note: Thanks for all the lovely reviews.**

Chapter Four

The big thuggish man who had a firm grip on him turned him and pushed him back the way they had come. Treville was breathing fast but hoped his fear was not too obvious. When they had slipped the noose around the unfortunate Bernet's neck Treville had been convinced he would be next. He knew the mercenaries would not gain anything from his death, but these were men for whom rules did not apply.

The leader, Herrera, had sneered as he watched Treville. Bernet had not been hanged as such, the men had simply pulled the rope taught, forcing the condemned man off the ground, leaving him dangling, his toes just an inch from solid ground. Listening to the man slowly choke to death had not been pleasant. Herrera had grabbed a fistful of his doublet and forced him to watch Bernet as the life had drained from his pained face, his bloodshot eyes losing their light over the few minutes it took for him to strangle.

What was worse was that Treville was fairly sure the man Bernet had been accused of murdering had attacked the poor man first. Bernet had been defending himself but an awkward fall had left the supposedly murdered man dead.

He was not sure why he had been forced along to watch the hanging? To keep him compliant? He had been too well guarded since they captured him to even attempt to escape. Did Herrera think that he would speak if he was faced with the death of another man?

Herrera had asked what he knew several times, but Treville had steadfastly refused to answer. The scarred man had eventually grown board and pushed Treville away saying he was still going to be handed over to their paymaster.

Treville was grateful for that fact, it had meant the mercenaries had not been able to mistreat him. At least not too much. He had been pushed around and struck a couple of times, but nothing more than he would receive during an enthusiastic fist fight. They had kept him tied up, his arms and shoulders were uncomfortable, but it was not as bad as it could have been.

Herrera was a stern leader, he thought nothing of striking his men for the slightest wrongdoing. The mercenaries were obviously disenchanted soldiers, hired to carry out work for Herrera and his unknown paymaster. The scar across Herrera's forehead, twisting down at one end towards his left eye, appeared to be from a nasty knife wound. The man had seen action but was now happy to lead a group of disparate men. Some of the men were very sure of themselves with weathered faces and old injuries to match. Others were young, perhaps without any military service, who lacked the discipline of their older comrades. But on the whole, Herrera ruled over his men firmly, keeping them in line and swiftly dealing with any wrongdoing that he did not approve of.

Treville had been kept under close observation since they had taken him. His current guard, a man of limited intelligence, was called Carlos and seemed to only be able to talk in grunts that made no sense in French or Spanish. But as Treville was not inclined to talk to the brute it made no difference to him.

As they marched back to the mercenary's camp, he wondered if he had been missed? He knew it had been several hours since he had been captured. The King was expecting him, but would he have had the sense to tell someone that he was missing? Treville hoped the monarch would start a search for him. The King would probably confide in Athos who would, in turn, gather the rest of the inseparables together.

Treville hoped they would not risk their lives for him. The information he had was important and could help in the relationship the King was trying to build but it was not worth the lives of his best men. Or was it? They were soldiers, after all, they had vowed to protect their country. Treville disliked being valuable to the point that others would give their lives to save him.

He hoped it would not come to that.

MMMM

With a stable boy help, Aramis walked the three horses to their stalls. The young lad was competent enough that Aramis was happy to leave him to rub the beasts down and deal with their needs. The tavern boasted a decent sized stable, but the five Musketeer horses were the only ones requiring shelter that night. With a nod of thanks to the lad, Aramis carried his and Athos' saddlebags towards the tavern.

The light was fading quickly as he pushed the door open. The quiet room in front of him was only filled with a small group gathered around the tavern keeper and a scruffy hound lazing in front of the unnecessary fire. Glancing around he saw Athos at the foot of the stairs beckoning him over.

'We will eat in our room; it seems they have something to update us with.'

Athos took his bag from Aramis and led him up the stairs. The solidly built building had a few rooms on its first floor one of which proved large enough to accommodate four beds. As Athos held the door open for him Aramis smiled at his friends who were already waiting for them.

'We were starting to wonder if you two were coming,' said Porthos who pointed at the two free beds.

D'Artagnan had stretched out on one of the beds and was busy cleaning his gun, while Porthos unloaded a tray of food he must have brought up ahead of the two new arrivals.

'The stew's good,' remarked d'Artagnan as he tipped gun oil onto his cloth.

'What is it that you have to tell us?' asked Athos as he took a seat and pulled his bowl of stew closer.

As they ate, Aramis and Athos listened intently to the conversation that Porthos and d'Artagnan had been party to before they arrived. Aramis was heartened to hear that Treville was at least alive and that he was considered valuable. The likelihood was that he would not be harmed.

Between mouthfuls of the tasty stew Aramis related how he and Athos had caught Treville's horse and found where the attack must have happened.

'We still don't know where they are holding the Captain,' said d'Artagnan as he tidied away his gun and the cloths he had used.

'What about the body?' asked Aramis.

'What about the body?' asked Porthos in return, confusion on his face.

'Could the hanged man hold some clue to where the Spanish camp is?'

Porthos nodded his understanding, 'possibly, but we don't know where he is. And they might have cut him down by now.'

'But they might not have,' replied Aramis.

'We need to talk to the poachers, get them to tell us where the hanging happened,' said d'Artagnan who had swung his legs off the bed and was sitting on the edge, clearly eager to move on with their search.

'They have seen you and Porthos,' remarked Athos quietly, 'they were not looking at me as I entered the tavern. I could talk to them.'

Porthos nodded, 'good idea, but you'll need to look a little less…'

'Noble,' finished Aramis with a slight grin.

Athos rolled his eyes. Porthos indicated for the Musketeer to stand up. Athos allowed Porthos to tuck the slightly frilled cuffs of his shirt sleeves into his plain doublet and relieved him of his weapons belt and gloves.

'They ain't going to talk to an armed man who looks like he might arrest them,' said Porthos as he laid the weapons on Athos' bed.

'I'll go with you and sit close enough in case they cause you any trouble,' suggested Aramis.

Athos glared at him, 'I am sure I could deal with a couple of poachers if I had to.'

'There is no point taking unnecessary risks,' replied Aramis with a grin.

Athos slapped his arm as he walked to the door. Aramis nodded to Porthos and d'Artagnan and followed him down the stairs.

The same group of men were talking with the keeper around the bar. Two of the men seemed to be the focus of the attention, Aramis guessed they were the poachers, their slightly tatty doublets giving them away.

Athos approached the bar as Aramis settled himself at the nearest table.

It did not take long for Athos to engage the men in conversation. The poachers seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting. Athos managed to convince the men that he was simply passing through and was no threat to them. He carefully asked questions about what they had seen and to Aramis' surprise learned where the macabre event had taken place.

Aramis quietly left the table and snuck back to the stairs; he was fairly sure none of the men had even been aware of him being there. They were all very invested in hearing all the sordid details about the hanging. Aramis waited for Athos who was taking his time, not wanting to appear to rush off after acquiring the information he needed.

The big dog by the fireplace was looking at him curiously. Aramis realised he may not have been noticed by the men, but the hound did not understand his behaviour. Aramis retreated up the stairs to await Athos.

MMMM

Athos quietly closed the door behind him and looked at his three friends who were watching him expectantly. He realised they would not know what had happened after Aramis had slipped back up the stairs when it was obvious that nothing untoward was going to happen to him.

'We may have a problem,' he said.

The listening men all sat forward slightly.

'I have a good description of the location, but I think the men may be wondering why I wanted to know. They were giving each other looks. We need to get to that body now. They probably think I am going to steal from it, they probably think I know there is something valuable on the body.'

'Damn,' said Porthos with annoyance, 'we don't want them going through the unfortunate souls' pockets and taking anything that could help us to find the Captain.'

D'Artagnan was already standing and pulling on his discarded doublet. Aramis and Porthos followed suit as Athos buckled his weapons belt back around his waist.

'We can walk there, from the description they gave, it is only a couple of miles away and the terrain will slow the horses.'

The four men left the room quietly, slipping down the stairs and out the door. The large dog lifted its head and watched them go. Athos glanced across to the men at the bar who were again only interested in the two poachers. How long that interest would last Athos did not know? He hoped that when the men were no longer the centre of attention they would not leave and head towards the hanged man. Athos was sure the poachers would be able to reach the spot quicker than the Musketeers who did not know the area as well and would be guessing the route to a certain extent. The Musketeers had to reach the man first. Any clue to Treville's whereabouts was in danger of being destroyed if the poachers began to rifle through his pockets.

They walked with purpose, but their progress was hindered by the near darkness they were moving through. As the wooded area became thicker the light became less. Athos had to carefully pick their path through the trees and bushes.

The poachers had described an outcrop of rocks behind the oak tree. The rocks could be seen from some distance away. Athos had managed to spot the outcrop and orientated their journey by the rocks despite the darkening sky. By the time they could see the tall oak tree the rocks were not much more than a shadow looming over them.

As they neared the area Athos guessed the body would be found they were all annoyed to hear voices ahead of them.

The poachers had reached the spot before them.

MMMM


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

'What d'ya think we're gonna find?' asked the older man.

The younger one was looking up at the hanging man warily. D'Artagnan wondered if he was worried the man would suddenly spring to life, but it was obvious he was dead, the deathly pallor of his face leaving the watching Musketeers in no doubt.

They had crept closer to the two poachers who were absorbed in their observations of the hanging man and had not noticed four armed men approaching them. D'Artagnan had wanted to move into the small clearing but Athos had stopped him from rushing forward with a hand on his arm and a shake of his head.

'If they run and tell others we are here the mercenaries could find out,' Athos had whispered.

D'Artagnan nodded his understanding. They were undercover after all.

'I have an idea,' said Aramis, 'stay down.'

They crouched down and watched as Aramis walked quickly into the small clearing near the body. The poachers turned around and stared at him a little surprised to see someone walk so confidently toward them.

Aramis had pulled his gun and was vaguely pointing it in their direction. He was talking to them in Spanish. D'Artagnan picked out the odd word and guessed Aramis' intention was for the men to think he was one of the mercenaries and therefore not afraid to kill them.

It worked.

The older poacher grabbed his son and dragged him away, the son stumbled as they went but was pulled up by his father. They disappeared quickly; the noise of their retreat could be heard for several minutes as they crashed through the undergrowth.

'Doubt they'll bother us any further,' said Aramis as he slipped his gun back into his belt.

'Good thinking,' said Porthos with a friendly slap to Aramis' back.

D'Artagnan approached the body and looked up at the dead man. He wondered if the man had really deserved to die or if his death was more for Treville's benefit, to scare him into being compliant?

'If you two steady him, I'll cut him down,' said Porthos who had moved behind the dead man, his main gauche already in his hand.

Between them, d'Artagnan and Athos held onto the man and supported his weight as Porthos sliced through the rope. As they lay the man down Aramis knelt by him and crossed himself. They paused respectfully for a few moments as Aramis prayed for the man's soul.

'Let's hope his death is not in vain,' said Aramis as he slipped his cross back inside his shirt.

Athos started to go through the man's pockets as Aramis undid his doublet and felt around the man's body for anything that could help them. The man wore good clothes, the mercenaries appeared to have been paid well. His arms were tied firmly behind his back, the rope had cut into his wrists, probably as he struggled and begged for his life. His legs were bound with more rope around his knees and ankles. The mercenary's leader clearly did not want his condemned man to escape.

'He's got nothing on him,' said Aramis as he sat back on heels, looking up at them. 'Other than a few Spanish coins.'

Porthos was looking at the man's boots, his brow furrowed, 'his boots are dusty.'

D'Artagnan crouched down and ran his gloved finger along the side of the dead man's boot.

'The poachers said he was carried here. His ankles were tied together before he got here,' said Athos.

'Wherever he was before he was brought here must be dry...but not indoors,' concluded d'Artagnan as he brushed the dusty dry earth from his gloves.

'It's pale, almost sandy,' suggested Aramis. 'Aren't there caves in this area?'

'I've heard that they're haunted,' said d'Artagnan with a grin, 'the locals won't go near them.'

Athos nodded, 'even with the recent rain showers, a cave without a water source nearby would have remained dry and dusty.'

Porthos had wandered a few yards away, 'they went back this way,' he said pointing at the ground. 'They wouldn't have gone too far on foot, and they wouldn't have gone too far in this terrain carrying a non-compliant man.'

The caves had to be relatively close. The hanging had taken place a short distance away, perhaps to build up the tension for Treville? Or the oak tree was the most suitable place to string the unfortunate man up on.

D'Artagnan looked back at the dead man. Athos had crouched next to him and was pulling off the man's scarf, a dirty yellow square of cloth that had been folded to tie around his neck. The scarf had become loose, no doubt during the man's struggle at the end of the rope.

Athos looked at the scarf for a few moments before looking up at Aramis who had moved to stand next to him. Aramis reached out his hand and took the scarf from Athos without saying anything. D'Artagnan looked at Athos who seemed to be silently apologising to his friend. The plan that had obviously formed in Athos' mind was shared by Aramis, and d'Artagnan could guess what it was. As the only one of them who spoke Spanish fluently Aramis was the only one of them who could try to infiltrate the mercenaries and locate the Captain.

'The poachers mentioned that all the men wore these,' said Athos as he watched Aramis look at the scarf for a few seconds.

Porthos looked annoyed at the unspoken plan but resigned to it happening.

'It's do or die anyway,' remarked Aramis as he tied the scarf around his own neck. 'I'll either get away with it...or not.'

MMMM

'If I can get him out, I will,' said Aramis as they watched the cave entrance.

'But don't risk failure,' said Porthos with mock seriousness. 'We wouldn't want to upset the King by having him forced to hang the four of us.'

Athos watched Aramis give Porthos a glare before grinning at him, 'we won't fail.'

'It is a shame we have no idea how far the system of caves goes,' said Athos.

'I will make a note whilst I'm in there,' replied Aramis. 'For future cave rescues.'

Athos shook his head as Aramis and Porthos smirked, the lightheartedness of their whispered conversations belying the seriousness of the situation and the danger they were all about to put themselves in.

They had walked quietly towards the caves taking a while to scout the area before settling themselves behind some rocks several yards from the largest cave entrance. Two mercenaries were sat outside the entrance, they were tending to a fire and not paying much attention to their surroundings. There were enough other men dotted around the area that there was no need to actually guard the largest entrance.

The other men were engaged in simple tasks, preparing food or cleaning weapons. There seemed to be assigned jobs, Athos could tell the mercenaries were disciplined enough to follow their leaders' orders. They had yet to see the leader, or at least did not think they had. None of the men milling about appeared to have the qualities of a leader.

Two smaller caves were being well guarded, making them unsuitable for Aramis to try to get in by. But the other cave entrances had given Porthos an idea to help them with recovering their Captain. Once Aramis had found Treville the plan would be executed.

'When you find him,' said Athos, 'make sure he understands he is not to engage in any fighting, he should just escape and meet us at the shepherd's hut. He has to understand that. The information is more important.'

Aramis nodded, 'I will issue my Captain the order,' he said wryly.

'He'll enjoy being ordered about by his men,' remarked Porthos.

'Good luck,' said d'Artagnan.

Athos watched as Aramis took a moment to gather his thoughts before moving away from them. He walked casually towards the mercenaries who paid him no attention. The men were all dressed in similar plain clothes, Aramis did not look out of place. As he reached the entrance to the cave one of the men tending to the fire looked up at him and said something. Aramis replied, causing the man to chuckle. With a nod to the man, Aramis disappeared into the caves.

The watching Musketeers could only wait. But they would not be idle whilst they waited. Porthos and d'Artagnan slipped away to work on the second part of their plan.

MMMM

Treville studied the back of his new guard's head, a scar had left a path of bald skin travelling diagonally across the man's scalp. The wound would have been significant, the man was probably lucky to be alive. Treville had seen men with wounds to their heads left with limited ability when it happened on the battlefield, he had witnessed the men being killed as a kindness. The brutality of their lives never more starkly laid bare.

Carlos, the dim-witted guard who had been pushing him about earlier had been sent for a break by Herrera who, although stern with his men, understood that they needed to be rested to be at their best.

The new guard, whose name he did not know, had not spoken to him much, and when he had spoken it had only been in Spanish. Treville could follow some of what the man had said, but had not responded to him, the action, eventually earning him his current view of the guard. The man had turned his back, with a noncommittal grunt and was now sat on a rickety stool at the entrance to his rocky cell.

The dim light that was thrown into his prison by the torch the guard had pushed into the loose dry dirt next to his stool did nothing to improve his view. The cave walls were jagged, the flickering torch making the dark recesses seem darker.

He tried to shift slightly to get more comfortable, but no area of the wall behind him seemed even vaguely smooth. His shoulders hurt and his wrists were sore where he had pulled at his ropes. The mercenaries had not hurt him much, although he had remained restrained since they had pulled him from his horse.

Herrera had visited him a few times, bringing water which he was allowed a few sips of. They had not given him any food. If he was held for much longer the lack of food would start to trouble him, Treville guessed the poor treatment was to keep him placid. He sighed, the treatment was working, there was no chance of escape from his current position. The narrow entrance to his cave cell meant he could not sneak out. He had become confused as they pushed him through the intricate cave system despite trying to remember the left and right turns and knew he would not be able to navigate his own way out easily whilst trying to evade the Spanish men.

Treville knew his best chance of escape, if no rescue came, would be when he was handed over to Herrera's paymaster.

He looked towards his guard when he heard the man speak to someone else. The unseen man replied Treville hid a smile when he recognised the voice.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

'The trick with this,' said Porthos as he carefully arranged the gunpowder, 'is to use as little as possible…'

He looked up at the rocks he was laying the trail from. The small rock that would be dislodged was holding up several bigger rocks above it. The explosion would, he hoped, cause the bigger rocks to fall, sliding down the face of the rocky hill and block the small cave entrance below.

They had managed to circle around to the smaller cave entrance and silently work their way over the rocks to a spot above the guards. The three men were looking out, towards the wooded area around their hideout. They were not paying any attention to the rocks above them.

D'Artagnan had poured the last of the gunpowder they had taken from Aramis before he infiltrated the mercenary's hideout. The short line of powder would leave them only a few seconds to get out of the way but they had limited resources and could not afford to use more than absolutely necessary.

Porthos straightened up and leaned out over the rocky hill a little, watching the oblivious guards beneath them. He nodded to himself. The men would probably have time to get out of the way, provided they were quick. The aim of the explosion was to cause panic and block the entrance. In turn, they hoped the distraction would give Treville the chance to escape. Although the whole plan hinged on Aramis managing to reach the Captain and telling him what was going to happen.

As they backed away from their planned distraction Porthos looked around, spotting Athos watching them from the tree line a few yards away from the cave entrance. His friend was alternately looking up at them and looking around for any of the mercenaries. It would not do for one of them to wander past and happen to look up above the cave entrance. If they were spotted laying their gunpowder the plan would be ruined. The smaller entrance was not very far from the main, larger cave entrance. They knew they would easily be overpowered by the mercenaries. What they wanted was panic and confusion from the men to give Treville a chance to get away.

The shepherd hut they had come across on their way to the caves was to act as their rendezvous point. They had left a few provisions in the hut and Aramis had laid his medical bag down on the small table, looking at it for a few seconds. They all knew the chances of them completing the rescue mission without any injuries was very slim. Porthos just hoped whatever happened to them was minor.

MMMM

Treville stared at the entrance to his side cave, waiting to see Aramis appear. The Musketeer was talking to the guard. Treville could make out the odd word, his Musketeer said something about food and that it would be fine for a few minutes. The guard grunted in response before easing himself up from his stool and shuffling off.

A few seconds later Aramis stepped into view. He was wearing plain clothes and the same dull yellow scarf that the other mercenaries wore. Aramis grinned for a moment before saying something to him in Spanish. The tone of his voice told Treville whatever was being said was detrimental. Aramis was keeping to his cover and pretending he did not approve of Treville and what he had been doing. Most of the mercenaries had been indifferent towards him but a few had spat towards him and made what he guessed were unpleasant comments.

'You filthy creatures don't know how to treat a prisoner,' said Treville in an attempt to help Aramis with his cover.

He had been intermittently complaining about his treatment since they had bound his arms behind his back.

'I've not had any water for hours…'

Aramis glanced up and down the main cave before stepping into Treville's smaller cave. He pulled a water skin from his waist, unstopped it and held it for Treville to drink from. Gratefully, Treville took a few sips. Aramis glanced behind him again before leaning in closer, looking at the ropes around his wrists.

'We're going to cause a distraction,' said Aramis quietly being careful not to let his voice echo around the rocky caves. 'I'll loosen your ropes…'

Treville leaned forward as Aramis worked, pulling the rope just loose enough for Treville to be able to slip one hand out of the bindings.

'Get out whilst they're trying to work out what has happened. We'll continue to be a nuisance to them for as long as possible. There's a hut, an old shepherd's hut, about one mile from here. Circle around the caves and look for three taller trees, head that way. We'll join you when we can.'

The urgency of Aramis' instruction told Treville that he did not have time to question his rescuer.

'If I could I would just leave with you, but there are too many of them between here and the cave entrance-'

'It's alright, Aramis,' said Treville, 'I'll get out. But could you just describe the route to the cave entrance? I've no idea how far into the caves I am.'

Aramis smirked, 'Captain, you're only about one hundred yards from the entrance. They must have taken you by an odd route to confuse you. Turn left out of here and follow it along. You'll see the light almost straight away.'

Treville shook his head annoyed at being confused by the mercenaries so easily. He watched Aramis pull a slim dagger from his boot and slip it into his own. The simple weapon was not much but better than nothing.

'Good luck,' said Aramis as he scrambled up.

The guard was returning. As the man came into view Aramis had already returned to the entrance of the side cave, he had switched back to speaking Spanish and appeared to be insulting him again. The guard appeared to approve. Aramis glanced at him once before disappearing back the way he had arrived.

Treville looked at his guard, who was staring at him with disdain. The man grunted before turning and sitting back on his rickety stool to eat the food he had returned with.

Treville wondered how long he would have to wait before the distraction began. He remained alert.

MMMM

Athos looked away from Porthos and d'Artagnan as they slowly made their way back to the ground. Porthos was ready to set the small explosion. The Musketeer had made eye contact with him for a few seconds and nodded. D'Artagnan moved off a few yards, pulling his gun as he did so, readying himself for the fight they were about to engage in.

The odds were very much against them, but with the explosions, there was a chance the mercenaries would think they were being attacked by more than four men. Mercenaries were paid, they were hired, they were not necessarily loyal to their paymaster. Athos hoped the men would run, not stand and fight. Their own lives would be more important to them than a cause they probably either knew nothing about or cared little for.

Aramis appeared at the cave entrance and walked out, he walked casually, not drawing attention to himself. The idea was that he would wander off and join them to fight the mercenaries. The idea was sound, but it was not about to play out as they wanted.

A scarred man was looking at Aramis carefully. The man broke off his conversation with another couple of the mercenaries and called out to Aramis. Athos watched as the scarred man slowly drew his gun, keeping it held behind his back. Athos knew Aramis would not have missed the move. The scarred man and Aramis exchanged a few words. Aramis appeared to be telling the scarred man where he was going. It was obvious the ruse had been found out. Other men were taking an interest. Aramis was in danger; he could not get away from the men.

Aramis had worked out that he was not going to get away easily. He pulled his gun and raised it but was not quick enough to beat the mercenary who already had his gun in his hand. The shot brought all the nearby mercenaries to attention. Aramis had been hit in the side; his reaction told Athos the injury was serious enough that his friend would not be helping them to fight the mercenaries. Aramis clutched at his left side; the shock obvious on his face. He stumbled back a few paces. Athos could almost see the thoughts rushing through the injured man's mind. Aramis knew he had to take himself away from the situation or he would be an unwelcome distraction to the three uninjured Musketeers. Or the mercenaries would use him as a bargaining tool. Before the scarred mercenary could either reload or move towards Aramis, the injured man turned and run. He stumbled but managed to retain his footing. Athos lost sight of Aramis in the undergrowth, he could only hope the fact that Aramis had been able to move on foot would mean he could get far enough away from the inevitable fight to not offer himself up as an easy target.

Athos looked across to Porthos who could see the unfolding events from his spot near the smaller cave entrance. As Aramis disappeared from sight Athos stood up, the men guarding the smaller cave, who were more alert than a lot of the other mercenaries, saw him and took a couple of steps forward.

'Now, Porthos,' yelled Athos as he raised his gun in the direction of the men.

MMMM

The small explosion did exactly what they had wanted it to. D'Artagnan had already been running towards the area in front of the larger cave entrance as the rocks rained down on the small entrance. The short line of gunpowder had only taken a few seconds to be eaten up by the spark Porthos had set. Both men were away from the point of the explosion in time. The three men under the rocks were not as lucky. D'Artagnan thought he caught a glimpse of one of the men grabbing another and pulling him backwards into the caves, but the third was most definitely crushed by the large rocks as they landed.

The sight of Aramis getting shot and being forced to run from the mercenaries had been sobering. They were down to three men before the fighting had even started. D'Artagnan hoped Aramis would have the sense and capability to make it to the shepherd's hut, if he wandered off into the woods, the chances of finding him again would be slim.

But there was no time to worry about Aramis or wonder if the Captain was going to be able to escape in the confusion.

D'Artagnan had pulled his gun as he moved forward, he fired at the first mercenary that came towards him, the ball entering the man's head causing him to stumble to the ground, inadvertently causing the man immediately behind him to trip over him. The second man smacked his head into the ground and remained still on top of the man that d'Artagnan had shot.

Pulling his sword, the Musketeer was soon embroiled in a fight with two mercenaries. One of whom was not particularly engaged in the fight. D'Artagnan guessed the man really wanted to just run away. Their plan was working. Behind the men, he was fighting d'Artagnan saw another couple take off into the woods without a second glance at their comrades.

He heard Athos yell at Porthos about the third cave entrance. As Porthos charged passed him and the two men he was fighting, his friend swung his main gauche across the side of the man who was not concentrating, sending him spinning to the floor bleeding from a wound that would kill him in a matter of minutes.

MMMM

Dodging to the side, Porthos missed the swing of a heavy looking wooden club. The man wielding the deadly looking weapon was big and clearly knew what he was doing. But Porthos was quicker, he thrust forward with his sword, embedding the blade into the man's chest before he had time to swing the club back at Porthos a second time. With a bodily shove, Porthos sent the attacker to the ground.

He saw several other mercenaries running out of the cave. He thought he spotted Treville amongst them but could not be sure in the confusion.

The third cave entrance was slightly hidden from view, but their trail of gunpowder was visible. Porthos had saved his gun, not wanting to waste the shot on any of the mercenaries when it could be put to more destructive use. As he pulled the weapon from his belt, he noticed another mercenary rushing towards him. A quick parry with his sword pushed the man back a few steps. The move giving him the few seconds he needed to aim and fire his gun. Pleased with his true aim, Porthos turned ready to run. He knew he had to put some distance between him and where the second explosion was set to go off. The third cave entrance had needed a bit more powder scattered around it to ensure a good collapse of rock.

The man who had attacked Porthos, could not understand that he was not really interested in staying to fight. The man managed to get a lucky swing of his sword to hit Porthos across the back. The power in the slice of the sword had been weak. Porthos doubted the blade had done more the scuff his doublet. He spun around pushing the man's sword away with his main gauche and thrusting forward with his sword, slicing into the man's shoulder, close to his neck. The panic that filled the man's eyes told Porthos he had done enough to incapacitate the man.

Porthos turned, he went to take a step forward but the explosion caught him before he could get away.

MMMM


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The grunting guard had risen from his stool quick enough to tip it over, leaving it rolling back and forth. The explosion had been loud in the caves but had not caused anything more than dust to spill from the cracks in the ceiling. Treville appreciated the care that his men had taken with their distraction. He suspected Porthos was responsible for the size of the explosion, finding the careful balance between too much and too little to make the desired effect.

The guard looked back at him for a few seconds, his slow mind trying to work out what to do with his prisoner. As he stared a couple of other men ran passed obviously scared. The man glanced at them before making one final look at Treville. Perhaps it was the fact that his captive was bound or the second explosion that made the decision for the guard. He lumbered off toward the entrance of the cave.

Treville had flinched himself when the second explosion, which felt closer, rocked the caves slightly. A few small pieces of stone fell around him as the sound died down. But Treville recovered quickly, he slipped his hands from the rope and pulled Aramis' dagger from his boot. The slim blade would not help him in a sword fight, but it would help him if he needed to deal with someone quietly.

He paused at the entrance of the side cave. A glance further into the caves made him step back a pace. Three men were rushing towards him. Two went straight past, running in fear of a collapse in the cave system or worried that an army had arrived to fight them. The third man, Treville recognised as his original guard. Carlos spotted him peering around the rock. The man changed his direction and headed for him. Perhaps he thought he would be rewarded for ensuring their prisoner did not escape. Herrera might promote him.

But Treville knew he could not let Carlos take him captive again. As the guard rushed into the cell Treville was quick and decisive in his attack. Grabbing the man from behind he plunged the dagger into his throat once before pulling it out and aiming a second thrust to the man's heart. Carlos collapsed without a word, unconscious before he hit the ground, to be dead in minutes.

Treville undid the man's cloak and swung it over his shoulders, keeping his head down as he ran from the cave. He deliberately mixed in with the other fleeing men. He knew he could slip away from them in the confusion that his Musketeers had successfully caused.

On reaching the entrance he quickly glanced around. Athos was engaged fighting a couple of the more loyal mercenaries. Treville could not see which of the men Athos was fighting but they were making the swordsman work.

Porthos was on the ground a few yards away trying to get to his feet. He had obviously been caught in the explosion, he was covered in dirt and debris but was moving. D'Artagnan was nearby fighting off a couple of men who appeared to have wanted to take advantage of Porthos' inability to fight back.

But he had his orders. His men had the fight under control. The chaos had been orchestrated. He cursed to himself, his men were dispensable, he was not. He had to remind himself that he had vital information for the King. He could not risk being mortally wounded by trying to help his men. They wanted him to get away from the fight. Treville, reluctantly, followed their plan. He moved off, leaving fight behind him, stepping off the path when none of the mercenaries were near him and starting to make his way to the shepherd's hut.

He just hoped all his men would meet him there.

MMMM

Athos was aware of Porthos rushing passed to set the second charge, he was aware of d'Artagnan despatching a few of the mercenaries and probably being responsible for a few more running away in fear. He was also aware of Porthos being caught in the second blast and d'Artagnan being forced to defend the disorientated man as he tried to get to his feet.

What Athos did not know was if the plan had actually worked.

Had Treville escaped?

Was Aramis potentially bleeding to death somewhere out of sight for nothing? Had Porthos been injured in vain? Was d'Artagnan fighting to help a man escape who was already dead?

The two men in front of him were making him work. One man, younger than himself and wearing a cleaner yellow scarf than the rest of the men had an enthusiasm that made up for his lack of footwork. The blows were good and strong, but his balance was off. Each strike of his sword left the young man adjusting his feet to compensate. If Athos were only fighting the young man he could have easily taken him down within a minute of their fight starting. But the second man knew what he was doing. The scarred man had clearly been a soldier. He had seen battles. The man was skilled and even alone would have kept Athos busy for some time. But with the help of the younger man, Athos was struggling.

They had moved away from the cave entrance. Athos suspected the scarred man, who was clearly a man of intelligence had engineered the move to avoid any further explosion. Athos knew there would not be any, but he was pleased that they had made the mercenary wary.

The ground was solid, but the blasts had left a sprinkling of small rocks across it, making for difficult foot placement. Several times both the scarred man and he had been forced to adjust their feet, kicking stones aside. The men were evenly matched. Although Athos hoped that once he had dealt with the younger man, he could better the older mercenary.

MMMM

Treville was glad his legs had not been bound for hours. When he had first got free of the ropes he had been full of energy as he escaped the cave and worried about his men. But after walking quickly through the woods towards the shepherd's hut he was quite uncomfortable. His shoulders ached from being pulled back and his wrists were raw from tugging at the ropes whilst restrained.

The three tall trees that Aramis had described were easy to spot. He headed towards them but was careful to check that he was not being followed frequently. He stopped occasionally and waited, listening intently for telltale sounds that any of the mercenaries were pursuing him. When he was sure he had escaped without any of the fighting or fleeing men noticing Treville broke into a jog. He wanted to get undercover as soon as he could.

The thick trees gave way to a collection of smaller bushes and shrubs, still big enough for a man to hide amongst but spread out enough that an ambush would be difficult. The shepherd's hut was nestled on the edge of the clearing, a thicker darker wood behind it. Treville guessed the shrubs and bushes had sprung up since the shepherd and his sheep had left the area.

The hut was quite dilapidated. The wood was starting to rot in places, but the stonework was still whole. But the thing that drew Treville attention and made him break into a run was the figure slumped in front of the door.

He had not seen Aramis outside the cave fighting and he now knew why. Aramis appeared to have reached the hut but been unable to get the door open, collapsing where he stood, one hand still on the handle. His other hand was wrapped around him. Treville tried to guess where Aramis had been injured as he reached the injured man.

'Aramis…'

The Musketeer managed to turn his head and look at Treville. He blinked a couple of times but did not respond. He was pale. Treville looked at Aramis' hand, he could see blood seeping between his fingers and soaking his doublet.

'Let's get you inside,' said Treville as he gently peeled Aramis' hand from the door handle.

Treville pushed the door open with ease. He pulled Aramis up to stand, taking most of the man's weight as they crossed the threshold.

The single-roomed hut had a low bed along one wall and a small table and chair next to a cupboard by the only window. Treville noted the few provisions that had been left. Aramis' medical bag and two water skins along with a small parcel of what he guessed was food.

Aramis tried to push away from him as they reached the bed.

'Let me see to it, Aramis.'

But Aramis tried to push him away again.

'No…' the injured man moaned.

Treville grabbed Aramis' hand and pushed it down. The pale Musketeer was unfocused. He was looking around the room, looking at him but not seeing anything.

'Aramis, look at me. You've been shot...I think...but you're injured. Let me see to it.'

'Got to reach the Captain…' Aramis mumbled and tried to pull himself up to stand.

'No, Aramis, you've got to stay there. You saved me. I'm safe.'

Aramis continued to mumble and try to escape his grasp. Treville wanted to look at the wound which still appeared to be bleeding. Aramis could bleed to death in front of him if he did not do something to help him. But the injured and confused man would not keep still.

Pushing Aramis down with one hand Treville managed to undo his doublet and push the leather aside revealing a blood-stained shirt. He pulled the shirt loose of Aramis' breeches and pushed it away from the wound causing Aramis to moan in pain as the fabric pulled at some of the dried blood.

Treville sighed when he saw the wound. A furrow had been cut across Aramis' side by a gunshot. It was deep but could not be stitched. All Treville could do was clean it and bind it as tightly as he could without compromising Aramis' breathing.

If Aramis was still and compliant dealing with the wound would have been easy, but the confused man kept moving and trying to sit up despite the action obviously causing him pain.

Treville knew that he needed to keep Aramis still, but did not want to knock him out, which would have been the easiest option open to him. He wished the injured soldier would pass out from the pain, but the stubborn man seemed determined to stay awake and participate in the rescue.

The rescue that had already been successful.

After pushing Aramis firmly down for the third time Treville grabbed his discarded weapons belts. Even whilst acting undercover Aramis had kept hold of his own weapons. He quickly pulled the guns and sword from their places and threaded the leather straps around the sides of the wooden bed. Aramis was already trying to sit up again. But Treville firmly grabbed his left wrist and pinned it to the bed, buckling the leather belt around it as tightly as he could without harming his uncooperative patient.

Aramis started to fight against him, but Treville had the upper hand. He hated restraining Aramis but could see no other option. The wound needed to be dealt with and at that moment he was alone. Treville had no idea how long it would be before help arrived.

Once fully restrained Aramis pulled at the belts, twisting his hands and arms. Treville suspected he would be putting dressings on Aramis' wrists before long.

'I'm sorry,' he said, even though he was sure Aramis could not understand him.

'Let me go,' said Aramis as he continued to struggle.

'Aramis look at me, you're safe.'

Treville knew it was no use. He sighed. As he was about to start cleaning the wound Treville noticed a shadow move past the window.

Aramis chose the same moment to hiss in pain as he tried to sit up. Treville moved back to Aramis and pushed him back down, covering his mouth with his hand. The action caused Aramis to fight back harder.

Treville hoped whichever mercenary was outside would just carry on past the hut and not try to enter it.

Keeping Aramis as still as he could with one arm, Treville grabbed the marksman's gun and aimed it at the door as he watched the handle being turned.

MMMM

**Authors note: Thanks again for the reviews. The last two chapters will go up tomorrow at some point (subject to real life getting in the way of course!).**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The young mercenaries appalling footwork finally proved to be his undoing. Athos had been forced to shove the scarred man away when he stepped in closer. Using the moment's respite Athos swung his sword towards the younger man who was pulling his overstretched right leg back. The point of the blade struck the man on the arm and sliced deeply across his thin doublet. The man gasped, Athos was quick to thrust his main gauche into the man's stomach and kick him backwards.

But the few seconds he had been concentrating on the younger man proved costly. The scarred man managed to slice Athos' arm in a similar move, but Athos was able to move back and avoid any more than a deep cut to his right arm.

Athos was tiring, and now he was injured. He dropped his main gauche and passed the sword to his uninjured left hand, holding his right arm across himself as defensively as he could.

He was unsure if d'Artagnan was close by.

Athos would have liked a little assistance. He knew he had a reputation as a good, if not the best Musketeer swordsman but at that moment Athos felt far from the best.

There had been a few mercenaries around, but they were either injured or had turned to looting before running off. As far as Athos was aware, he and the scarred mercenary were the only men left fighting.

Athos started to wonder if running away was an option?

MMMM

'Try to walk a bit Porthos,' said d'Artagnan as he shifted the weight of his disorientated friend slightly.

'Sorry,' slurred Porthos as made more of an effort to walk on his own.

When he had seen Porthos knocked flat by the second blast d'Artagnan had been lucky to avoid a fleeing mercenary who nearly ran straight into him. He had to fight off two men who appeared to want to try their luck with the downed Musketeer, but d'Artagnan had made short work of them both.

The chaos and confusion caused by the two blasts had been enough to send the mercenaries into a panic. A couple of the men had shouted out something to indicate they thought a whole garrison of soldiers was onto them. D'Artagnan was pleased the plan had worked, even it had come at a cost. He knew Aramis had been injured but had no idea where he had gone and Porthos had obviously been affected by the shock of the blast. D'Artagnan knew he had to get his friend out of the way whilst he could before he potentially wandered off on his own. It would not do for them to lose two of their friends in the surrounding woods.

D'Artagnan had glanced about looking for Athos. He could not see his friend, d'Artagnan hoped Athos had gone off after Aramis.

D'Artagnan had hauled Porthos to his feet and started to make his way towards the shepherd's hut, hoping to spot Aramis on the way if Athos had not already found him.

'You're not going direct, are you?' asked Porthos as he continued to make an effort to walk on his own.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'no, I do know we need to make sure we're not being followed, but I think they've all run off anyway. Your plan worked.'

Porthos huffed out a non-committal agreement.

'Where are you hurt?'

D'Artagnan wanted to keep Porthos awake and more likely to walk on his own. The injured man was already starting to get heavy again, making less and less of an effort to walk.

'Just bruising I think,' Porthos mumbled back, 'my head...ears ringing...really want to sleep.'

'In a bit. We're not far off now.'

Porthos managed to look up as they reached the clearing, d'Artagnan saw his friend smile slightly when the shepherd's hut came into view.

'I will happily take one of Aramis' pain killers…'

D'Artagnan wondered if Porthos had forgotten that Aramis had been injured and was missing?

They reached the door, d'Artagnan had to shift Porthos slightly to get his hand free to reach for the door handle. As the door swung open, the sight inside the small hut made both men freeze.

Treville was sat awkwardly on the edge of the small bed, pinning Aramis down with one arm, his hand over Aramis' mouth, whilst pointing a gun at the doorway. Aramis was mumbling and struggling, despite an obvious injury to his side.

Treville visibly sagged when he realised, he was not facing the enemy.

Porthos, who had finally managed to stand alone for a few seconds moved to lean heavily on the door frame. D'Artagnan quickly grabbed him again as he began to sink down.

'Not in the doorway, Porthos.'

Treville released Aramis who continued to struggle. D'Artagnan noticed that his friend had been tied to the bed with belts, he glanced at Treville.

'Sorry, I...he's confused,' said Treville who looked as though he had been caught doing something wrong.

'Is he badly hurt?' asked Porthos as d'Artagnan helped him to sit on the floor next to the bed.

D'Artagnan was amused that Porthos seemed to have forgotten his own injuries, although the pain was still evident in his expression.

'He's lost blood, I don't think he knows he's safe...he's still trying to rescue me,' said Treville with a sigh.

D'Artagnan realised his Captain was starting to tire after the burst of energy he would have enjoyed when he managed to escape. He disliked seeing his Captain, who was usually so sure of himself, a little overwhelmed.

'Let me sort Porthos out with a pain killer, then I'll help you clean and dress the wound to Aramis.'

Treville nodded his agreement to the plan. Porthos did not argue but continued to look at his friend with concern.

'Athos?' asked Treville as he went back to trying to keep the non-compliant Aramis still.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'I thought he had gone after Aramis. I'll go back for him once Aramis is sorted.'

'I can help with Aramis,' said Porthos.

'No,' said Treville. 'You are barely awake.'

'I'm sure he's fine-' d'Artagnan started to reply before he was interrupted.

'There's going to be a distraction…'

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis who was staring at Treville. The injured man was still pulling at his bindings but his efforts to escape had grown weak.

'I know,' said Treville quietly.

Aramis, who had been agitated slowly sank back onto the small bed. They watched in silence for a few seconds as Aramis finally passed out.

'He was shot by one of the men. He had a scar on his face. Aramis had nearly got out when the man started to question him,' said d'Artagnan as he handed Porthos the small vial that contained a pain killer.

'That would have been Herrera, their leader,' said Treville as he started to clean the wound to his Musketeer.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. D'Artagnan cleaned and dressed the wound to Aramis' side. Treville assisted by manipulating the unconscious man to sit when d'Artagnan needed to wrap the bandage around him. Porthos sat watching them work, his eyelids drooping as the fatigue began to catch him up. D'Artagnan knew he would start to suffer himself once they had all been sorted out. None of them had slept in many hours. But first, they had to find out what had happened to Athos.

'I knew it would be you four,' said Treville as they finished their ministrations.

D'Artagnan smiled, 'the King called Athos in for a secret meeting. A meeting everyone knew about. He told Athos that if we could not rescue you, we were to kill you.'

'It would have been for the best,' said Treville, his expression serious. 'The information I have really is that important, it cannot fall into the wrong hands.'

'The King also said that if we failed, we would all be condemned.'

Treville's expression turned to one of annoyance. He shook his head with a sigh.

'It's a good job you succeeded then.'

D'Artagnan nodded.

A noise outside caused d'Artagnan and Treville both to look towards the door. Porthos, who had almost fallen asleep sat up straight again.

'At least you won't have to go and look for him,' said Treville as he reached for the door to let Athos in.

MMMM

The relief Treville felt when he heard what he had thought was Athos outside the hut was short lived. As he opened the wooden door, he was shocked to find himself facing Herrera a gun in the mercenaries hand aimed at his former captive. The man was grinning. His scar twisting as his haggard face wrinkled.

Herrera moved the gun slightly to point it at d'Artagnan when the Musketeer took a couple of steps forward. D'Artagnan stopped his hands out submissively. Porthos had sat forward, but not tried to stand up.

'I see my aim was not good enough,' said Herrera with a glance at Aramis who remained unconscious. 'Although I seem to have been able to deprive you of one of your men, with one on his way to join him, and that one,' Herrera nodded towards Porthos, 'does not look as though he is in very good shape either.'

Treville wondered what had happened to Athos. Herrera was implying he had dealt with the swordsman in such a way that he would not cause the mercenary any further problems.

'I will have my money,' Herrera said, his lips twitching into an ugly sneer. 'Come with me without a fuss and I will not shoot your young soldier here.

Treville knew that d'Artagnan would lay down his life for him, all his men would and Treville hated the thought. He knew he would not be able to reach the mercenary before he had time to shoot d'Artagnan. There was no chance of the man missing, he was only stood a couple of yards away. Too far away to try tackling to the ground but close enough to kill d'Artagnan.

Thinking fast and remembering what d'Artagnan had said about them being told by the King to kill him if they could not rescue him, Treville took matters into his own hands. Grabbing the dagger that Aramis had given him, he held the blade to his own throat, pressing the tip into his skin. He heard d'Artagnan gasp and shift slightly but the Musketeer did not otherwise move.

Herrera kept his gun on d'Artagnan but stared at him, indecision in his eyes. They all knew that if Treville was dead there would be nothing left to bargain with. D'Artagnan would not hesitate to attack Herrera, and Treville suspected that despite his injury, Porthos would not be far behind.

'I'll shoot him,' said Herrera, 'I won't kill him, I'll just maim him...would you like that on your conscious?'

Treville knew he was at an impasse with the mercenary. He thought fast, desperately trying to think of a way out that did not involve his own death or that of his men.

When the answer came, it did not come from Treville.

Herrera, who was stood just outside the door to the hut, one foot resting on the low step, was bundled to the floor so suddenly it made both Treville and d'Artagnan flinch, fearing the gun would go off.

A series of thumps signalled the gun skittering harmlessly across the floor of the hut as Herrera dropped it and was forced to deal with his attacker.

Treville watched for a few seconds in shock as Athos pummelled the man into the floor. Athos threw punches indiscriminately at the mercenary. It took Herrera a few seconds to make any kind of retaliation, he managed to grab Athos' right wrist pulling it upwards forcing Athos closer to him. Herrera managed to twist Athos over onto his back, leaving him compromised and easier to assault. Herrera did not hesitate to take advantage. The two men continued to fight at close quarters trading blows quickly.

Treville noticed the blood on Athos doublet and knew he would only be able to sustain the fight for a matter of seconds before the uninjured Herrera got over the initial attack. As he stepped forward d'Artagnan stopped him and pushed him back, before turning to help Athos. Treville knew his Musketeers were still following their orders. He was too valuable, and they held no value. At least not to the King, not when affairs of state were concerned.

As d'Artagnan was about to grab Herrera and pull him off Athos, both the brawling men stilled.

A deadly silence fell.

MMMM


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

D'Artagnan stared for a second. Athos was not moving, his face turned away. Herrera was not moving, sprawled on top of his friend.

Blinking a couple of times, d'Artagnan forced himself to react, he took the final step forward, he had been less than a yard away when the fighting had stopped and both men had slumped to the floor. He grabbed at Herrera, pushing him firmly off Athos. As Herrera rolled away, d'Artagnan saw the bruise blossoming on his temple, a trickle of blood winding its way around the dirt on the man's face.

Herrera was dead.

D'Artagnan turned his focus to his friend. Athos was starting to move but had become very pale. He was breathing hard. As he tried to lift his left arm a large stone dropped from his fingers, a splash of blood on its surface telling d'Artagnan it had been responsible for Herrera's death. Athos must have grabbed the rock as he was pushed about by the mercenary.

Treville crouched on Athos' other side, resting his hand on the injured man's chest, trying to stop him from moving too much.

'It's alright,' said d'Artagnan quietly, 'he's gone. Keep still.'

'Where's his injury?'

D'Artagnan looked around, into the hut, Aramis was watching them. He had managed to twist himself slightly onto his side, the restraints preventing him from moving any further. He looked pale and on the verge of passing out again. But d'Artagnan was glad his friend was conscious and coherent.

'A deep laceration to his arm,' said Treville who was undoing Athos' belt and doublet.

'Ara...mis?' slurred Athos.

'He'll be fine,' said Treville, 'provided he behaves. Now, you be still and do as you are told as well.'

Athos managed a weak smile, 'yes, Captain. It is good to have you back.'

Treville nodded, 'thank you.'

Athos took a couple of breaths, blinked a few times and closed his eyes.

'He's passed out,' said d'Artagnan unnecessarily.

For the second time in an hour, d'Artagnan and Treville worked together on an injured friend. Treville pushed Athos' doubted off his shoulder and eased his right arm from the sleeve. Even unconscious Athos reacted to the movement, his expression was not calm. The wound to his arm was bleeding, d'Artagnan used a temporary bandage so that they could check Athos for any other injuries.

He glanced back toward Aramis and Porthos. Porthos was slowly undoing the belts which were keeping Aramis tied to the bed. Aramis did not question why he had been restrained; he had probably guessed he had been combative. Explanations could wait. Despite obviously still suffering the effects of the earlier blast, Porthos managed to ease Aramis off the bed, settling him on the floor of the hut. Athos would need the bed once they had seen to his immediate needs. Aramis was very pale and looked as though he would pass out again.

'How deep is the wound?' asked Aramis.

Treville was busy feeling Athos' ribs as he replied, 'deep, it's still bleeding.'

'Clean...it thoroughly…'

'We can do this Aramis…'

D'Artagnan watched as Aramis tried for a few more seconds to remain conscious but lost the battle. Porthos slipped his arm around his friend's shoulders and supported the injured man against him.

Treville sighed, 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'What for?' asked d'Artagnan.

'If I hadn't got caught, this wouldn't have happened to you all.'

'You shouldn't have been doing this alone,' said Porthos from behind them.

Treville paused, he did not stop d'Artagnan from taking the bandage from his hands and starting to wind the material around Athos' arm. D'Artagnan glanced up at his Captain, a look of guilt crossing the man's face.

'I know,' Treville said, 'but the King did not want the information to be shared with anyone else-'

'We don't need to know the information,' said Porthos, butting in, 'we need to keep the information, and therefore you, safe.'

D'Artagnan looked up again and nodded his agreement with Porthos' statement. Treville smiled.

'I will remember that for next time, Porthos,' said Treville.

'Good,' replied Porthos, 'he ain't ready to take over yet,' Porthos nodded towards Athos' still form. 'We need our Captain.'

'I thought you were injured?'

'Bruised. I'll survive.'

'Could you survive without telling me off?' asked Treville.

D'Artagnan could not help a smirk as he finished tying the bandage on Athos' arm. Despite the nasty injuries they had received, they were all alive and had achieved their goal of rescuing the Captain. The light-hearted banter between the Captain and Porthos was welcome.

MMMM

Treville rubbed his palm across his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue. He knew he should wake d'Artagnan to take his turn on watch. But the Musketeer was asleep, lying next to the bed, a sort of last line of defence for Athos. Athos had come around briefly a few hours before. He had managed to drink some water.

He had explained that Herrera and he had fought until the mercenary had been lucky enough to push Athos over. The unfortunate swordsman had stumbled back and crashed to the floor. He had been left stunned for a few seconds. Why Herrera had not taken advantage and killed him, Athos did not know. When he had been able to get to his feet he had pursued the Spaniard who seemed to know about the shepherd's hut. Treville had thanked Athos for his timely arrival. Athos had fallen into an uneasy sleep.

Porthos had finally given up pretending he had not been badly affected by the blast and succumbed to the call of sleep himself a few minutes later. He was lying stretched out on the floor next to Aramis.

Treville had spent some time apologising to Aramis for tying him to the bed. Aramis had been a little embarrassed when he found out the reason for his restraints. The two men had agreed to pretend the incident had not happened. Aramis was asleep, lying next to Porthos. Aramis did not look particularly comfortable, but he would recover.

All his men had been hurt, even d'Artagnan was not without several nasty bruises from the fight. Treville felt responsible, despite them telling him he was not. He was annoyed that the King had set them the ultimatum that if they did not succeed, they would be executed. There would have been no need, they would have come for him regardless.

D'Artagnan murmured in his sleep and swatted at some unseen foe with his hand. The dream only lasted a few seconds, before he settled again. Treville decided to let him sleep on for a while. He doubted he would sleep when he did allow his Musketeer to take over the watch.

He had been the cause of his men getting injured, of his men coming close to being killed.

The information he had, the delicate negotiations he had taken part in would help the King and France to better their friendship with the neighbouring country.

But was it worth the potential loss of the lives of his men?

Treville hoped it was.

The End.

**Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the reviews and favourites/follows.**


End file.
